


Brokeback Mountain

by melturheadaches



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Also it's only called Brokeback Mountain because a character has a broken back, Cowboy AU, F/M, M/M, Rodeo AU, Sharing a Bed, The Ryan/Jac is just implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 23:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20536559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melturheadaches/pseuds/melturheadaches
Summary: Brendon is retired bull-rider Ryan's protege but after a long night, they both realize they want more.





	Brokeback Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Just some general bull riding/rodeo fun facts!  
-To get a successful ride you have to stay on the bull for eight seconds with one hand on a rope and one in the air (touching anything leads to a no score ride)  
-Scoring is done in two parts, with one half based on the bull's performance and one half based on style points. The bull's score is based on the difficulty of the ride and style is based on how much the rider uses spurs, their general control, and rhythm, etc.

“Alright city boy, show me what you got.” 

Brendon nodded towards Ryan and climbed up the metal fence, surveying the bull in front of him. He was an absolute monster, 1,900 pounds, with a tawny grey hide. “Alright, I’m going down,” Brendon said. He lowered himself onto the bull, settling behind the hump in it’s back. 

The arena was pretty full that night, and Brendon took a second to take it all in. Thousands of people sat in the stands, watching him, waiting for him. As he felt panic start to set in, he forced himself to rip his eyes away from the crowd. He had to focus, clear his mind. He inhaled deeply, tasting the dusty, shit-laced air, and held it in. Then, closing his eyes, he let it out. He was ready. 

Brendon nodded again, signaling he was ready, and the chute gate opened with a clang. From there, his mind was ruled by pure instinct. He was an extension of the bull, relaxing and tensing his muscles in rhythm with the animal. His stomach soared and sank in time with the bucking, but he’d learned to enjoy it through the years. A particularly nasty leap threw Brendon off-center, but with a strong tug on the lead rope, he was able to right himself, digging his spurs in. 

Then, as quickly as it started, it was all over. The buzzer rang and Brendon opened his eyes, throwing himself off the bull. As he stumbled away, he felt a smile growing on his face. He’d kept a steady rhythm, mostly stayed in control. Though he refused to score himself, he knew he’d done well. As the bullfighters corralled the bull, he scaled the arena fence, finally noticing the wild cheering of the crowd. He threw up his hands, accepting their praise. 

Below him, Ryan watched, shaking his head. “Don’t let your ego grow too much, city boy,” he said. Brendon scaled the rest of the fence, hopping down onto the concrete. 

“I think I can count on you to keep that from happening,” Brendon said. He straightened his cowboy hat. “So how did you think I did?” he asked. 

“Your personal best,” Ryan said, “Could’ve avoided that slip-up, though.” 

“Could I?” The pair started walking back to the VIP tent. Brendon waited with nervous anticipation to hear his score over the arena loudspeaker. It would certainly be a few minutes, but he still waited every second for the music to be interrupted by the announcer. 

Once in the tent, Brendon loaded up his plate with some barbecue and coleslaw. A few people congratulated him on his ride, and he thanked them. As the adrenaline wore off, fatigue took its place. Sure, his ride had only been eight seconds, but it was the most exhausting eight seconds of his life. 

Brendon sat down at the folding table next to Ryan, who watched the next rider on the TV screen inside the tent. “So how do you think I can avoid slipping?” Brendon asked, half sarcastically. 

“I won’t bother you with it right now,” Ryan said, “Not before your big victory lap. We’ll talk about it at the ranch.” 

“You sure?” Brendon asked, “I want to hear it.” 

Just then, the music cut out. Brendon sat straight up, every muscle in his torso tensing. The announcer cleared his throat. “For Brendon Urie, from Salt Lake City, Utah, we are awarding a score of 88.7, putting him in first place!” 

Brendon’s jaw dropped. He turned to Ryan. “Holy shit. I did it,” he said. Others in the tent looked at him, clapping for him. He smiled, gladly taking in the attention. 

“I knew you would,” Ryan said nonchalantly, “Let’s head out. If we’re lucky we can get back to the ranch tonight.” 

“Sounds good.” Brendon wolfed down the rest of his barbecue and licked the sauce off his fingers. In the tent, everyone started to clear out, grabbing to-go plates and drinks for the road. Ryan was sipping a beer, talking to a blonde woman Brendon didn’t know. 

Brendon turned towards Ryan and the woman, trying to get a better look at her. She was pretty, obviously a little older than Ryan, in boots and a nice button-down. She looked at Brendon as if she was noticing him for the first time. “This is Brendon, right? Your new student?” 

Ryan nodded, “Yep. Brendon, this is Jac Vanek. You probably recognize her from her illustrious barrel racing career.” Jac smiled, obviously flattered. She stuck out her hand to Brendon.

“It’s nice to meet you. Congrats on your win tonight. With any luck, you’ll be as good as Ryan was before he quit.” There was a certain sharpness to her words that Brendon picked up on. Ryan seemed to as well, getting up from the table in a rush. 

“We should get going,” Ryan said, “It was good to see you, Jac.” He turned on his heels and walked towards the door to the tent. 

Brendon got up too, hurrying to follow Ryan. He shot a smile at Jac. “Good to meet you!” he said, following Ryan out of the tent. Ryan was already in the parking lot, halfway to the truck, by the time Brendon caught up. 

“She seemed nice,” Brendon said, speedwalking to keep up. 

“She’s fine,” Ryan muttered. They got to the truck and Brendon stopped by the back door, unbuckling his chaps and tossing them into the backseat. Ryan was already waiting in the front seat, having started the car. As Brendon climbed into the shotgun seat, Ryan was fiddling with the radio. “You ready?” Ryan asked. 

Brendon nodded, and Ryan finally settled on a radio station playing a Bellamy Brothers song. Brendon didn’t know the name of it, despite Ryan’s efforts he still didn’t know much about country music, but he’d heard it before. Ryan pulled out of the parking spot and started making his way out of the lot. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said you did good today,” Ryan said.

“I know,” Brendon said, “You don’t lie.”

“You’d be surprised.” The Bellamy Brothers song faded into ‘Love is Alive’ by the Dodds, Brendon could recognize that one. “Change it,” Ryan grumbled. Brendon was surprised, Ryan normally liked the song, but he dutifully found a new station. 

They sat in the car together in silence, listening to a pop song that neither of them knew play. Ryan pulled out onto the highway, speeding up to a few miles above the speed limit. “So what’s up with you and Jac?” Brendon asked, “You’ve never mentioned her before.” 

Ryan gave Brendon a look, a mixture of annoyance and surprise. “What makes you think somethings up?” he asked, obviously trying to come off as nonchalant but failing miserably. 

“I dunno, you kind of stormed out when she mentioned you quitting. Just seemed like there was some history there or something.” Brendon shrugged, also trying to come off as nonchalant. He also failed. 

Ryan sighed. “You really want to know?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Brendon said.

“Fine,” Ryan said. “We were engaged. Five years ago. But we broke it off after I got hurt.” 

“Why?” Brendon asked. Honestly, it was shocking to him that Ryan had ever felt love towards anything but music or horses in his life. 

Ryan shook his head. “She was upset that I quit riding. Thought I was giving up.” 

“So you broke it off?” Brendon asked. 

Ryan nodded. “Yep. Not that it would’ve worked out, even if everything went well. It wasn’t meant to be. She’s not my type, not who I’m looking for. You get me?”

Brendon thought about what Ryan said. “I think I do.” Maybe he was just projecting, but he’d always wondered about Ryan. Quite a few girls would probably die to be with him, or at least lose a limb or two, yet as far as Brendon knew, he’d been alone. Of course, the way Ryan was, he could be married and Brendon would never know. All Brendon knew about Ryan was his personality, and even that could be an act. 

Watching the streetlights stream down the road, blurring into the night, Brendon felt his eyelids start to droop. He tried to stay awake, keep Ryan company, but before long he had rested his head against the window, and not long after that, he fell into a deep sleep. 

Brendon woke up as the car pulled into a brightly lit parking lot. He came into consciousness slowly, blinking the blur out of his eyes and stretching his neck from the uncomfortable sleeping position. The car clock read that it was around half past one, they’d been driving for at least a few hours. 

“I thought we were going all the way home,” Brendon said. He turned to Ryan, who had a look of discomfort on his face. 

“Change of plans. We’re stopping here for the night.” Brendon looked around and realized they were in a motel parking lot. Ryan brought the car to a stop outside of the lobby, then fished around for his wallet. He pulled out a hundred dollar bill and handed it to Brendon. “Go in and get us a room.”

Brendon nodded, still half asleep, and climbed out of the car. He was barely even conscious as he walked through the automatic doors into the lobby and up to the counter. “Can I get a room?” he asked, only barely waking up. 

“We only have one,” said the woman at the counter. She was a redhead, albeit a fake one, and wore a cheap-looking motel uniform. “It’s a queen bed. That okay?” 

Brendon stared at her with a dazed look, then looked out the doors at Ryan in the truck. “Is there a couch?” he asked.

The woman nodded. “It’ll be forty bucks for the night.”

“We’ll take it.” He handed her the money and she pulled change out of the register. 

“You’ll be in room thirty-four. It’s just down there to the right.” The worked pointed outside, then handed Brendon his change. He took it and headed back to the car, slightly more awake now. Stopping outside Ryan’s door, he peered through the window. Ryan was leaning back in his chair, with his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face. 

Brendon opened the door. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

Ryan’s eyes flew open and he sat up, wincing at the sudden movement. “Just my back acting up, I’ll be fine in the morning.” He spread apart his lips in a forced smile. “Let’s just get to the room.” He grabbed his keys and tried to get out of the truck, leaning heavily on the door. Brendon watched, brows furrowed. 

The moment Ryan’s feet hit the ground, it was like he was a newborn calf. His legs were weak, and he moved them in slow, shuffling steps. “Which way’s the room?” Ryan asked. 

Brendon broke his gaze from Ryan’s legs. “Um, that way,” he said, pointing in the same direction the worker had. Ryan started walking, but he could barely put on foot in front of the other. “Here,” Brendon said. He stood next to Ryan. “Put your arm over me, I’ll help.” 

Ryan shook his head, “I don’t need your help, city boy.” He tried to keep walking, but it was slow going. 

Brendon held his ground. “I insist,” he said. Ryan looked at him for a few seconds, then sighed and begrudgingly laid his arm over Brendon’s shoulders. Brendon slowly led Brendon down the sidewalk and to their room. 

“If you tell anyone about this city boy, you’re dead,” Ryan said. 

They arrived at the room and Brendon unlocked the door. “I won’t, I swear.” He helped Ryan into the room before Ryan let go of him. 

“I can take it from here,” he said.

They took a moment to take in their surroundings. It was by no means the Ritz, with dingy carpeting and ragged furnishings. There was a bathroom off to the side, a queen bed, and further from the door, a small sitting area. “You can take the bed,” Brendon said.

Silently, they made their way to their respective sleeping places and got ready for bed. Brendon stripped off his jeans and sat on the couch. It was a rough, scratchy material, and not quite long enough to let him stretch out, but it would have to do. He doubted Ryan would want to share a bed, especially in his state. 

Ryan sat on the bed, eyes glazed over as he stared at the wall. Brendon got up and found the closet, unsuccessfully searching for an extra blanket. “You mind if I turn off the light?” he said, standing by the light switch. Ryan looked up, snapped out of his daze. 

“Oh, yeah. I should lay down.”

Brendon flicked off the lights and made his way through the dark to the couch. He laid out, knees bent to fit on the couch, resting his head on one of the throw pillows. Every inch of skin that touched the fabric was itchy. He tossed and turned, trying every position possible, but it was futile. No matter how he positioned himself, discomfort kept him wide awake.

“I can hear you moving,” Ryan said, slightly annoyed and very tired. 

“Sorry,” Brendon said, “I can’t get comfortable.” 

Ryan was quiet. Then, Brendon heard him sigh. “You want the bed?” Ryan asked. 

“I won’t make you take the couch.”

“No, I mean we share the bed.” 

Brendon sat up on the couch. Was Ryan serious? Did he really want to share the bed with him? “Are you sure?” Brendon asked.

“Yes, now hurry up and come here so I can sleep,” Ryan barked. Brendon hopped up from the couch and hurried to the bed, slipping under the covers. He could feel Ryan’s body head to his left, warming him up from the cold motel room air conditioning. 

“Thanks,” Brendon said. Ryan grumbled something back, though it wasn’t decipherable. Brendon could hear Ryan’s breathing, feel the mattress move with every inhale and exhale. He so badly wanted to reach over, wrap his arm over Ryan’s waist and pull him close. But he couldn’t. 

Wind outside shifted the clouds and moonlight flooded in through the window. Ryan’s shirt had ridden up, and in the new light Brendon could see stark white scars running up his spine. There was one directly over the ridges of Ryan’s vertebrae, and a few smaller scars running alongside it. 

“What happened during your accident?” Brendon asked, suddenly, sheepishly. 

Ryan shifted in bed, turned to face Brendon. He had an annoyed look on his face, but his eyes held something else. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I just do,” Brendon said. 

Ryan sighed, sitting up, and looked at his hands, then up at Brendon. “Well, I fell off a bull.”

“I figured that.” Brendon sat up to match Ryan and watched him as he spoke. 

“I fell off and I lost my footing. My ankle twisted or something, I fell and the wind got knocked out of me. Before I could get up I had a hoof to the back.” Ryan was matter of fact, like he’d rehearsed the speech. 

Brendon frowned. “So you quit?” he asked.

Ryan shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it that. Saying I quit implies there was a choice in it.”

“So what happened, then?” Brendon asked. 

“I broke my back. Took months to recover, half a dozen surgeries. Now it’s too risky to try to ride again. Riding again could reinjure me. It was quit or die.” 

Brendon was quiet. He studied Ryan’s face, pained with his jaw set. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” 

“It’s alright,” Ryan said. He paused, looking introspective. “I don’t think I’m tired anymore.” 

“Me neither,” Brendon replied. They sat back against the headboard of the bed, sitting in silence. Brendon took a breath, and swallowed. “Do you think there was something else between you and Jac?” he asked. 

Ryan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Brendon said, “Basic incompatibility?” 

“I guess you could say that.”

“What was wrong with her?” Brendon asked. He stared at Ryan, catching a glimmer of fear in Ryan’s eyes before it quickly disappeared. 

Ryan shook his head. “I think that’s personal-” he started. 

“Is it because she was a woman?”

Brendon stared Ryan down. He knew what he was doing was risky, that he could be losing everything he had gained in the last few months or more, but he kept his eyes locked on Ryan. Ryan was quiet, but his face spoke volumes. He moved from shock, to anger, and then to a look of bitter acceptance. 

“I guess you’re only asking because you know the answer,” Ryan said. He avoided eye contact. 

“I think I do,” Brendon said.

Ryan looked up, meeting Brendon’s eyes. He was pleading, practically begging for pity with his eyes alone. “You can’t tell anyone,” he said. 

“I won’t,” Brendon said, “I am too.” The words came out of his mouth like saddle oil. Ryan’s eyes widened. 

“Really?” he asked. Almost all traces of his fear were gone, “I’d always wondered, but damn, I was convinced you were just from the city.”

Brendon shook his head. “Nope. Just gay.” He spit the words out. It was the first time he’d said them to someone else, not just himself in the mirror. In a strange, slightly shame-tinted way, it felt good. 

“Well, you’re still a city boy. My city boy.” Ryan smiled, almost letting out a chuckle. “You know, I was really starting to lose hope there.” 

Brendon's stomach did a backflip. “What do you mean?” He knew perfectly well what Ryan meant. 

“I mean that ever since I laid eyes on you I knew you were special. And not just for rodeo.”

Brendon’s stomach was now doing full on gymnastics routines. “What a coincidence,” he said, struggling to not choke on his own tongue, “I felt the same way, I think?”

“You think?” Ryan asked. 

“I- I knew,” Brendon said. He was as flustered as he was the first time he spoke to Ryan, as the first time he’d gotten a ride in a pro rodeo. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Ryan grinned. “I’ve been waiting all damn summer for you to ask me that.”


End file.
